


Make My Wish Come True

by the_sky_is_forever



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Christmas, F/M, Long-Distance Friendship, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, brendon is, well it's more long distance pining and flirting but there's no tag for that, well ryan's not famous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 17:45:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2820815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_sky_is_forever/pseuds/the_sky_is_forever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan is the proud owner of a small coffee shop. Brendon is a world famous singer. The rest, as they say, is history. (Or: Brendon comes crashing into Ryan's life a little abruptly and Ryan can't stop thinking about the funny, attractive guy who left his phone number and talks about him in interviews.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make My Wish Come True

**Author's Note:**

> the title is, obviously, from all i want for christmas is you by mariah carey and i wont apologise for that  
> there is a phone number in this fic no i dont know who's it is it's just random numbers pls dont call it  
> disclaimer that nah i dont own the people, the band, anything

**25 days till Christmas**

It’s as Ryan wipes down the last table in his small café, TheCoffeeShop, that the door swings open. The annoying Christmas jingle that replaced the usual bell as the Christmas season started begins to play. “We’re closed,” Ryan says automatically, not even turning around to see who it is.

“Shit,” the person says, “Look, I’m sorry, but can I just stand here to call my friend? It’s raining and cold outside, I won’t be two minutes, I swear.”

The person sounds pretty distressed, and Ryan throws his cloth onto the side before saying, “Sure.”

“Thank you,” the person breathes and Ryan finally turns round to look at them.

The man is pulling out his phone and scrolling through what must be his contact list. He gives Ryan a quick glance and a half-smile as he puts the phone to his ear and waits for the person to pick up. “Dallon? Dallon, I need you to come and get me.” There’s a pause as the other person – Dallon – says something, and then the stranger says, “No, fuck you, I’m not lost. And I’m not drunk, ugh. Look, there’s some guy here listening to my conversation, I’ll explain it when I see you. Come and get me. Wait, let me get the address.”

The guy looks across at Ryan, who could not possibly be more interested in that phone conversation. Ryan doesn’t even wait for him to ask and rattles off the address, leaning back up against the counter and watching as the guy relays it to his friend.

They talk for a few moments more, enough to confirm that Dallon is actually coming, and then the stranger hangs up.

There’s a moment of silence, and then they both try to speak at the same time.

-        “He won’t be long I’ll just go and wait outside.”

-        “Do you want to wait in here, we have coffee?”

The stranger freezes, then, “Coffee would be good,” he says slowly. The Christmas lights in the window flash obnoxiously behind him and Ryan nods.

“What’s your name?”

The man hesitates, and Ryan can’t help but think that there’s something odd about that. “Brendon,” he says carefully.

Ryan nods and he gives Brendon a smile as he says, “I’m Ryan. What coffee do you want?”

Brendon seems to relax a little and he perches on the edge of one of the tables, saying, “Which is your favourite of your Winter Specials?”

Ryan shrugs and smiles a little shyly, “The cranberry and white chocolate hot chocolate, probably, but that’s not coffee.”

Brendon smiles, “That sounds perfect.”

Ryan turns his back on Brendon as he sets about making the drinks. He hears Brendon stand up behind him and walk across the room. Ryan turns to watch him, a little cautious about this man, though he seems normal.

Brendon’s looking at the Christmas Wishes wall and his fingers trail across the words on the pieces of card as he reads a few.

Ryan speaks up, “My friend started that and it seemed to really catch on.”

Brendon looks at him with a smile and says, “Would you mind if I added one?”

Ryan shrugs, “Go for it.”

He leaves Brendon to his scribbling as he finishes off the drinks. Carrying them across to Brendon, he watches the other man attach the card to the wall. “What’s your Christmas Wish?” Ryan asks, curiously, as he takes a sip of the too-hot hot chocolate.

Brendon glances down at the floor and says, “You can always read it after I’ve left.”

Ryan pushes the mug of hot chocolate towards him and doesn’t answer.

Barely a second of silence passes, however, because Brendon then asks, almost nervously, “What music are you into?”

Ryan frowns and shrugs, “Not much, I don’t really have time for it.”

Brendon looks torn between offended and relieved. “Well, that’s a first,” he says.

Ryan laughs a little softly and shrugs.

As Brendon takes his third sip of the drink, the door swings open yet again. Both Ryan and Brendon look up at the same time, the words “We’re closed,” dying on Ryan’s lips as Brendon grins and says, “Hey, Dallon.”

Dallon rolls his eyes, “C’mon, let’s go, Spence is losing his shit.”

Brendon scoffs, “I’ve been gone a few hours, not weeks. He needs to calm down.”

Nevertheless, he gets to his feet and takes another gulp of his drink. He looks at Ryan, “Damn, I was really enjoying that,” before he follows Dallon to the door.

Ryan just sits there and watches him go. At the last moment, Brendon turns around and smiles, “Nice meeting you, I like your place.” Then he really is gone, and Ryan’s smile dies quickly.

He watches the pair pass the window and disappear out of sight before he starts clearing away the mugs.

Just before he leaves, he goes across to the Christmas Wishes and looks at the newest addition.

 _If you want it, here’s my number:_ _702-352-0310 – Brendon (happy Christmas)_

There’s a little drawing of a Christmas tree next to the message and Ryan grins involuntarily as he pulls the card down off the wall, shoving it into his pocket and blushing a little.

He turns the lights out and locks up before heading up the stairs to his quiet and empty apartment.

-

**21 days till Christmas**

The holiday season seems to have an effect on people. That effect is that they want nothing more than to consume a ridiculous amount of high-sugar Winter Special drinks. Not that Ryan’s complaining (he earns his living off selling those very same drinks). Still, sometimes he wonders whether he should even bother stocking normal drinks at this time of year.

When it’s nearing lunch time, Jon finally shows his face, dragging his girlfriend along behind him and brandishing a piece of paper. He throws it down on the counter in front of Ryan and hisses, “Why didn’t you tell us you met _Brendon Urie_?”

Ryan frowns and looks down at the paper. It’s a print out of a website page. On the page, he can see a picture of a familiar face. A face that he met only four days previously.

“What?” Ryan asks, blankly.

Jon tsks before saying, “That’s an interview with _Billboard_ , Ryan. For some _currently unknown_ reason, yesterday Brendon Urie – Frontman of US pop-punk band _Panic! At The Disco_ – talked about you in this interview.”

Ryan blinks at him. Then he grabs the sheet. “ _What?_ ” he repeats as he scans the words.

Sure enough, there it is. About half way down the page, there’s a section that’s been circled in red pen, most likely Jon’s work.

**Interviewer:** _So, you arrived here from a trip to Nevada? How did you like it?_

**Urie:** _I grew up in Nevada, so that state always feels like home, even if I wasn’t in that particular area. It was nice. I spent a lot of time with Dallon (Weekes, bass) and Spencer (Smith, drums). We just hung around for a week, really. Although, there was this one thing that really made the week great._

**Interviewer:** _Care to share that with us? Or is it not PG rated?_

**Urie** : _[laughs] I met a guy. Well, I stumbled into a coffee shop; I think it was called_ TheCoffeeShop _, no spaces. There may have been a certain owner that was very nice to me and let me have a white chocolate and cranberry hot chocolate on the house._

**Interviewer:** _What was his name?_

**Urie:** _Ryan, but he’s not going to see this. He “doesn’t have time for music”. [laughs]_

**Interviewer:** _Will you see him again?_

**Urie:** _I left my number, so I sure hope so._

**Interviewer:** _Getting back on track…_

Ryan looks up from the paper to find Jon and Cassie staring at him with wide grins on their faces. “He is so into you,” Cassie exclaims before Ryan has a chance to say anything.

Ryan scoffs at them, trying to hide how panicked he is by this turn of events, “He’s famous, he’ll forget about me within a few days.”

Jon ignores him, “Did he really leave his number?”

Ryan blushes and shrugs, “He might have done.”

Cassie squeals, “This is amazing! Have you texted him? Please, tell me you’ve texted him!”

Ryan rolls his eyes, “No, I haven’t texted him. He was in here for less than half an hour, guys.”

Jon punches him on the arm and all but yells, “You have to text him!”

A lady behind them coughs, interrupting their conversation with a disapproving look and pursed lips. Ryan gives his friends a sharp look before putting on a Customer Service Smile and asking the lady what she would like. She orders a latte – finally, something normal – and Ryan ignores Jon and Cassie for the few minutes it takes to make it. When she pays, she gives him a smile and says, “I think you should text that mystery man,” and then picks up her coffee and leaves without another word.

Ryan sighs heavily, and tells Jon and Cassie that he is not going to text him.

“Please,” Jon begs, “I might get to meet _Spencer Smith_.” He says the drummer’s name in an almost worshipful tone while Cassie nods her head enthusiastically.

“Look,” Ryan says, “I’ve never even heard of this guy before, why would I text him?”

“Because he’s _Brendon Urie_ ,” Jon replies instantly, as though that’s the only reason anyone would ever need.

-

**18 days till Christmas**

Ryan doesn’t text Brendon for just less than three days but finally curiosity gets the better of him.

 **Ryan** : _Wasn’t that a little presumptuous? How do you know I’m not dating someone?_

 **Brendon** : i _took a guess and that text just told me i was right_

The reply is almost instant and Ryan has to stop himself from grinning about the fact that Brendon knows who he is.

 **Ryan** : _Okay, I could still be straight._

 **Brendon** : _you own a coffee shop_

 **Brendon** : _wait that was stereotyping or smthing_

 **Brendon** : _are you straight?_

 **Ryan** : _… No._

 **Brendon** : _im good at this guessing thing_

 **Ryan** : _Maybe you should come get another drink? (And actually pay and finish it this time?)_

 **Brendon** : _(1) you offered (2) i cant sorry i left town a day after i left my number_

Ryan is actually fully aware of this fact, obviously, but he’s curious as to how far he can take this until Brendon brings up the whole “I’m really famous and am actually a rock star” thing.

 **Ryan** : _Oh._ _Then why leave your number at all?_

There’s a slightly longer pause in the conversation and Ryan frowns down at the screen.

 **Brendon** : _because i’ll be back at some point yea?_

Ryan doesn’t reply to that, he only smiles and shoves his phone into his pocket as he turns to serve a person who walks up to the counter.

As soon as the person’s gone, however, he pulls the phone out of his pocket and sends one more text.

 **Ryan** : _Alright. Text me when you’re around?_

The reply of ‘ _of course_ ’ makes Ryan smile for at least an hour afterwards.

When Jon finally shows up for work later on – if they weren’t best friends, Ryan would have sacked him years ago – he takes the news about their texts as was to be expected: with a lot of jumping up and down and grinning. Ryan tells him to calm the fuck down and chill; it’s just a few texts.

(and a promise to visit)

-

**17 days till Christmas**

For once, Jon is actually pulling his weight at the café. Ryan’s taking a well-deserved break, sat at one of the tables with his coffee – black, no sugar – and a book. Cassie is chatting amicably with a few of her female friends – Ryan’s lost track of them all, to be quite honest, it’s just a constant stream of dyed hair, manicured nails, and friendly smiling faces. He likes them all well enough, he’s even dated a few of them, but they can be a bit too much in a confined space and for an extended length of time.

His phone chimes.

Quickly folding down the corner of his page he drops the book onto the surface and checks the lit up screen. He tells himself off internally for letting his heart rate pick up when he sees that it’s Brendon.

 **Brendon** : _whatcha doin?_

Ryan laughs aloud, attracting Cassie’s attention, and she’s by his side in seconds. “Is that Brendon?”

Ryan’s laugh turns to an irritated sigh, “So Jon told you.”

“Of course he did,” she says with a dismissive wave of her hand, “Now tell me what he said.”

“No,” he replies, turning his attention to his phone and tapping out an answer.

 **Ryan** : _Worried I’m with my partner?_

 **Brendon** : _are you a cowboy? nah im just bored outta my mind. (and i know ur single)_

“Why are you smirking at your phone?” Cassie whines, “ _Tell me…_ ” she begs with a pout. Ryan ignores her.

 **Ryan** : _Doing what?_

 **Brendon** : _boring legal stuff for my job maybe i’ll tell you about it when i visit? do i get another free drink too?_

 **Ryan** : _That depends on how nice you are to me._

Next to him, Cassie lets out a huff and slumps in her chair. “Ryan Ross you are a cruel, cruel man who keeps things from his best friends.”

He throws her a grin and she smiles reluctantly.

 **Brendon** : _im getting in trouble for not paying attention and im blaming you ry_

Ryan’s heart does not flutter at the nickname, thank you very much.

 **Ryan** : _Blame me all you want. I didn’t start this conversation._

 **Brendon** : _see you around coffee boy_

“Please let me read it, please, please, please, please, please,” Cassie is saying next to him, linking her fingers together and pouting. “You’re _smiling_ and _blushing_ and being really cute and I have to know what he said, Ryan, please.”

Ryan winks at her and says, “Well, you’re not reading my texts, so have fun with that. I have to get back to work.” He gets to her feet and she drops her head to the table.

As he’s walking away, she shouts at his back, “You’re a mean man!”

He laughs loudly at her and joins Jon behind the counter.

-

**16 days till Christmas**

**Brendon** : _thinking about you_

 **Ryan** : _It’s three am, Brendon._

The fact that he was still awake anyway is irrelevant.

 **Brendon** : _i know! im a romantic rlly._

 **Brendon** : _i mean im also thinking about chicken nuggets so_

Ryan laughs aloud in the darkness of his room and hastily taps out a response, not that tired all of a sudden.

 **Ryan** : _I was thinking about you, too. Now I’m thinking about strangling you._

 **Brendon** : _babe you dont mean it_

Ryan smiles at his screen and replies,

 **Ryan** : _You’re right. I don’t. But you should sleep._

 **Brendon** : _okay but pls know that im still thinking about you_

 **Ryan** : _Same here._

-

**14 days till Christmas**

He wakes up early and stumbles in the direction of his kitchen, desperately, in search of coffee. Ryan runs a hand through his hair in an attempt to flatten it and groans at the prospect of spending the day on his feet.

His phone is charging on the side in the kitchen and when he lights up the screen, he’s got a number of messages. He checks the one from Brendon first, obviously, and smiles at the _good morning_ text with a number of smiley faces – some of which Ryan suspects Brendon invented himself.

He then checks the ones from Jon and Cassie, which turn out to be the exact same messages sent from both their phones: something about a video interview with Brendon that he “really needs to watch”.

Well, he supposes that he has the time before the shop is due to open.

He settles down on his sofa when he’s made his coffee and opens up his laptop, typing into YouTube the title that Jon and Cassie both told him.

The video buffers a little and he bumps up the quality to HD to make the image clearer when it finally loads.

The first shot is a wide shot of the interviewer and Brendon, sitting on separate chairs, angled slightly towards each other and slightly towards the camera.

Ryan relaxes as he watches Brendon talk, the interview is close to twenty minutes long and it takes a long time before Ryan’s name is brought up. When it does, Brendon’s face breaks into a bashful smile that makes Ryan’s heart skip a beat.

The man laughs softly and smiles down at his knees for a second before lifting his eyes back to the interviewer. He fields the questions well, making himself sound not wholly devoted and keeping Ryan’s privacy intact. Even so, when he smiles and says things such as, “He’s good; he makes me laugh,” Ryan can’t help but feel like he’s falling, falling, falling. (In the best possible way, of course.)

When the interview comes to an end – the interviewer wishing Brendon luck in his musical adventures, and then, as a side note, his coffee shop adventures too – a bunch of links to other interviews beckon Ryan, but he chooses to ignore them. Instead, he sets about getting ready for work.

As he’s opening up, he quickly sends a _good morning_ text in reply to Brendon.

It’s an unbelievably busy day in the café and that leaves Ryan with no time to message Brendon at all, after that. Brendon, on the other hand, seems to have a completely free day in which he does nothing but text Ryan.

Ryan would like to be able to say it annoys him.

It really doesn’t.

-

**12 days for Christmas**

Brendon gets into the habit of texting Ryan all of his stray thoughts. These range from short lines that sound like an extract from a poem – or perhaps a song – to unusual comments on the behaviourisms of his friends, to wildly ridiculous – and yet still hilarious – jokes.

Ryan doesn’t always reply, not necessarily having the time while working, but every single text is a delight and sometimes he just can’t help but respond. This usually results in Ryan getting very distracted from his job as Brendon pulls him into an absurd discussion on the colour yellow, or his thoughts on finding something that rhymes with ‘circus’.

When his phone chimes, he pulls it out of his pocket immediately and a smile comes to his face instinctively.

 **Brendon** : _hey stranger, i want you to catch me like a cold_

Ryan rolls his eyes at the screen, smiling a little fondly, and replies quickly.

 **Ryan** : _I can’t tell if that’s supposed to be romantic, or off-putting._

Brendon’s response makes Ryan smile before he has to put his phone away and do his job.

 **Brendon** : _honestly? i wrote the damn line and im not entirely sure. your guess is as good as mine_

He smiles at the customer he’s serving, and it’s completely genuine, if left over from thinking about Brendon.

Brendon continues to text him throughout the day, even without Ryan replying. It’s back to inane ramblings and observations about his day and every single text lights up Ryan’s day.

When the day finally comes to an end and Ryan crashes into bed, he stays up longer than he should texting Brendon.

He eventually is forced to say goodnight, though, and Brendon responds cheerfully.

 **Brendon** : _sleep well ry i cant wait to see you_

Ryan just smiles at turns off his phone, wondering when it might be that he sees Brendon again.

-

**11 days till Christmas**

The stupid door jingle starts playing as someone pushes it open. Ryan’s had a really long day already and Goddamn, they’re _closed_. Read the fucking sign please. “We’re closed,” he says waspishly, as he stacks the cups back onto the shelf, fresh out of the dishwasher.

“I know,” comes the reply.

“Then why would you fucking come in?” Ryan snaps, whirling around to face the person and

“Hi,” he says.

Brendon grins, “Hi.”

“You’re back,” Ryan says.

Brendon laughs softly and scrunches his face a little, “Well, yeah, obviously.”

Ryan mentally punches himself in the face. “No, sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you.” His eyes take in the man as he stands there and, wow, he seems to have gotten more beautiful in the past couple of weeks.

Brendon shrugs, “Sorry, I did say I would call.”

Ryan shakes his head, and his face splits into a grin as he’s hit with the realisation that _Brendon’s here_. “No, no, this is fine, would you like a drink?” Then he pauses, “Wait, can you stick around? Or is your friend going to show up?”

Brendon pulls out a chair and sits down at the table, “I can stay.” Ryan’s lips part slightly and he stares at Brendon sitting there. “What?” Brendon asks, sounding uncomfortable. One of his hands flies up to his hair, as though it’s not beyond perfect, and he looks a little unnerved.

Ryan blinks and forces himself to look away. “Hot chocolate?” he asks.

A pause. Then, “Yeah, that would be great. You know, I think you make the best hot chocolate ever.”

Ryan chuckles, “You’re just saying that so I’ll give it to you for free.”

“Did it work?” Brendon teases, and Ryan knows that if he looked at the man, he’d have the biggest grin on his face.

“Maybe,” Ryan admits.

Ryan sets the mugs down on the table a few moments later and says, “I make pretty good coffee too, but no one drinks that at the moment, really.”

“Maybe I will next time,” Brendon shrugs, and then he takes a sip of the hot chocolate and sighs with pleasure, “Or maybe not.”

All Ryan knows is that he will make Brendon whatever drink he wants as long as he makes that noise again. He averts his eyes and distracts himself by taking a sip of his own drink. “So, where’ve you been?” Ryan asks, for lack of anything else to say. “You said you went out of town?”

“Oh, yeah, I had some, uh, business to take care of.” Brendon doesn’t explain.

“You sound like you work for a drug cartel.”

“I don’t!” Brendon says, quickly, and then, “Did I say that too fast?”

Ryan laughs, “A little, yeah.” He half-shrugs, “Don’t worry, I don’t think you really work for a drug cartel.”

Brendon looks a little apprehensive, like he knows where the conversation is going and doesn’t want it to get there, and when Ryan finally asks, he twists his face just a little into a grimace.

“So, what do you do?”

Ryan waits, and takes another drink. He watches Brendon carefully, waiting for him to make an excuse, to change the topic, but instead he just sighs. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

Ryan’s mouth pulls down at the corners a touch, “You don’t like your job?”

“No, I love my job,” Brendon says quickly, “I’m just worried that you won’t.”

“Okay,” Ryan says slowly.

Brendon runs a finger around the rim of his mug and looks around the room. “You turned off the Christmas lights,” he observes.

“Yes, well, I was closed,” Ryan answers, a challenge in his voice.

Brendon has the good grace to look a little ashamed, “Sorry, I didn’t want to come during open hours. I can’t explain why.”

“Your job?” Ryan asks, his voice quieter.

Brendon nods. He clears his throat and takes a drink of the hot liquid. His eyes find the Christmas Wishes, “Have you put one up there?”

Ryan’s a little taken aback by his question, “No, I haven’t. Technically, neither have you.”

“Maybe my wish was that you’d call.”

There’s a pause in which they both stare at each other, and then Ryan’s mouth twitches and they both burst into laughter. Brendon’s laugh is loud and unapologetic as he throws his head back, and Ryan keeps his eyes trained on the man, unable to look away, even if he’d wanted to.

When they finally catch their breath, they both feel much more at ease and Ryan grins at Brendon over his hot chocolate.

By the time they’ve finished their drinks, it’s almost seven pm and Ryan’s pretty hungry. “Look, I haven’t eaten yet, do you want to go out and get something to eat?”

A small smile plays around Brendon’s lips, and he says, “That would be really nice.” He then chews at his lip, “Do you know anywhere quiet?”

“Don’t want to be seen with me?” Ryan asks lightly as he stands up and carries their mugs across to the side.

He can almost _hear_ the eye roll when Brendon says, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Is this to do with your job, again?”

Brendon doesn’t pause before saying, “Yes.”

Ryan just nods but he’s smiling when he turns back to face Brendon. “We could just order takeout?”

Brendon’s eyes light up and Ryan’s heart skips a beat. “That… that would be perfect.”

They decide on ordering in Chinese and they set up on the floor of the café, creating a little picnic.

Ryan sent a text to Jon and Cassie when Brendon picked his way through his sweet and sour pork.

 **Ryan** : _Don’t freak out on me. I’m eating Chinese with Brendon Urie._

It barely takes Jon half a minute to reply and it’s just a stream of swears and half-formed words. Then,

 **Jon** : _TELL ME EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENS_

Ryan just laughs and sets his phone down; when he looks up, Brendon’s watching him with soft, curious eyes. Ryan almost blushes, “A friend.”

At his words, Brendon’s face seems to flicker with- something. But then, there’s a smile back on his face, “What was so funny?”

Ryan makes up a lie instantly, “His girlfriend’s trying to cook and he’s jealous of our Chinese.” It answers the unasked question of his relationship with his friend. When Brendon looks a little tense, Ryan quickly says, “You don’t mind that I told him about you? I mean, he is my best friend, and-.”

“I don’t mind,” Brendon interrupts, “After all, I told-,” he breaks off and coughs awkwardly, “Uh, I told my friends about you.”

Ryan knows what he almost said, and the smile it brings to his lips is completely irrational, he covers it up by transforming it into a smirk and teasing the other man, “You told your friends about me? Now I really do feel special.”

The blush that his words bring about high on Brendon’s cheeks is worth everything to Ryan, and when Brendon then mutters, “Shut up and eat your fucking chicken,” Ryan bursts out into peals of laughter. He throws his head back and almost falls over backwards in his seated position on the floor.

When he looks back at Brendon, there’s a pleased look written all over his face.

They’re not done with their meal when Brendon glances out the window and his face lights up. “It’s snowing!” he exclaims, as if that’s not a thing that happens every year in excess.

Ryan pulls a face, “What’s new? There’s already snow on the ground anyway. It’s been snowing all week.”

Brendon gives him a look and gets to his feet, holding out one hand, “Get up you pessimistic _bore_ , we’re going outside.”

Ryan looks at him incredulously, “It’ll be freezing!”

“I’ll keep you warm,” Brendon promises, and Ryan gives in at that, taking Brendon’s hand and letting himself be pulled to his feet.

Brendon helps him into his coat, wrapping a scarf around his neck for good measure too, before he drags Ryan out into the snow with a shout of laughter and a look of boyish wonder on his face.

“Come on, Ryan!” Brendon shouts, his voice echoing round the empty street, “Where’s your Christmas spirit?”

“I left it inside with the warmth,” Ryan deadpans, but he’s grinning almost immediately after, so the effect is lost.

Brendon laughs and pulls him out into the street. He let’s go of Ryan and spins around, looking up at the sky and watching the flakes drift down to Earth like tiny angels sent from Heaven.

The tip of his nose is red and Ryan swears he’s never seen anything cuter.

Brendon turns to look at him, “Now, I know I’m beautiful, but you can’t just stand there and stare at me.”

Ryan rolls his eyes, “Whatever, Brendon.”

Brendon frowns then, a slight crease in his forehead, “What’s your surname?”

“Ross,” Ryan replies.

“Ryan Ross,” Brendon rolls the name around in his mouth, and Ryan likes the way it sounds. “Good name,” Brendon decides.

Ryan crosses his arms, fighting the cold, and says, “Well, what’s yours?”

Brendon licks his lips, and then says, “Urie,” quietly. His eyes look wary and he watches Ryan carefully, as though searching for some sign of recognition in them. Ryan knows why he’s so hesitant to tell him these things, and he’d like to say that it isn’t upsetting.

Disguising the fact that he already knows Brendon’s name, he does what Brendon did, “Brendon Urie. Hmm.” He purses his lips and says the name again, “Brendon Urie. Yes, I like it.” He laughs and says, “That’s a name for stardom, don’t you think?”

It’s a risk to say that, but Brendon doesn’t show any signs of suspicion, instead he laughs too and says, “If you say so.”

Ryan smiles widely at him, and Brendon smiles back, his eyes crinkling at the edges.

They stand in the cold street, just grinning at each other, for a long moment before they realise what fools they’re being.

Brendon shakes his head with a laugh and asks, “Are you going to come and make a snow angel with me, or not?”

“Sure thing, _Urie_.” Ryan replies.

They lie down in the snow a little distance apart, but when they spread their arms out to create the wings, the tips of their fingers just about reach. Brendon captures hold of his hand and they tilt their heads to look at each other.

Ryan blushes under Brendon’s gaze, and Brendon rolls over to him, in a way that should be comical, but all it does to Ryan is make his heart beat faster. Now, Brendon lies right beside him, in the damp, cold snow, and their eyes meet.

Followed by their lips.

Ryan’s head tilts upwards to meet Brendon’s kiss, one hand surging forwards and wrapping around the back of his neck, holding him here. Brendon’s hand moves to rest gently on Ryan’s waist, and Ryan wishes that he would just pull him in, tug him closer.

Instead, Ryan pulls away, breathing a little heavily, and he says, “You ruined our snow angels.”

It’s the only thing he can think of to say, and for some reason it makes Brendon laugh so hard that he gasps for breath. Ryan smiles at the man, almost fondly.

Brendon gets up and helps Ryan up too, “We should go in; you must be freezing.”

Ryan shrugs, but allows himself to be led inside. Ryan then leads Brendon up the stairs to his flat. (“You live above the café, of fucking course you do, how many other stereotypes to you fit?”)

“Do you have anywhere to be tonight?” Ryan asks as they sit on the sofa and pull off their coats, scarves, and wet socks.

Brendon runs one hand through his hair and shrugs, “No, would you mind if I crashed on your couch?”

Ryan smiles, “Of course not.”

Brendon tells him that he just needs to call someone, and Ryan excuses himself, heading for his bedroom.

He closes his bedroom door and leans against it, sighing happily. He can just about make out Brendon’s voice down the hallway and at first it’s a calming sound, but then it sounds like Brendon’s arguing with someone, and Ryan definitely makes out the words, “I know what I’m fucking doing, Spencer.”

Ryan moves away from the door and undresses, ready for bed, so as to give Brendon some privacy.

He finds his phone in his jean’s pocket and sends a fast text to Jon.

 **Ryan** : _He kissed me._

Then he turns off his phone and leaves it on his bedside table.

He lies in the darkness of his room for almost 15 minutes before he groans and gets out of the bed, padding to his door and back down the hallway to Brendon. He leans against the doorframe of the front room, and Brendon’s sat on the sofa, staring at his phone, a mix of emotions scrawled across his face.

“Do you want to sleep in my room?” Ryan asks.

Brendon almost jumps out of his skin, dropping his phone in the process. He looks across at Ryan and his face softens. He takes a few calming breaths and then nods, “Yeah, yeah, I do.”

Ryan smiles and holds out one hand.

Brendon gets up off the sofa and takes it, letting Ryan take him to his room.

They curl up under the covers, drifting off to sleep quickly, and neither one of them mention that their touch feels like home.

-

**10 days till Christmas**

When Ryan wakes up, Brendon is curled around him, his arms tightly clinging on. Ryan presses a gentle kiss to the man’s temple and decides to ignore the fact that he’s only met the man twice.

Checking the clock on his bedside table, he discovers that he’s got just over an hour before the shop’s due to open, and he carefully extracts himself from still-sleeping Brendon’s grip.

He quickly gathers up an outfit and heads for the bathroom. He grabs a quick shower and when he gets out, it’s still dark outside and his flat is cold. He’d like nothing more than to climb back into bed with Brendon and stay there all day, but a man must work. Besides, Brendon probably has places to be, things to do.

He puts the kettle on and stands in the kitchen, waiting.

He makes two coffees, black, no sugar, and takes them through to the bedroom. Brendon’s already awake, sat up in the bed and talking on the phone. “Yes, I spent the night, do you have a fucking problem with that?” he’s saying, and Ryan immediately feels uncomfortable in his own room. “I know what I’m fucking doing, Dallon.”

Ryan coughs awkwardly and holds up the mugs. Brendon’s eyes snap over to him, noticing him for the first time, and his expression softens instantly. Distractedly, he says into the phone, “Look, I’ll see you later,” and then hangs up.

“Is everything alright?” Ryan asks, settling down on top of the covers, his legs crossed, and passing one of the mugs to Brendon. He shrugs when Brendon takes a sip of the coffee and grimaces, “Sorry, I didn’t know how you took it. There’s milk and sugar in the kitchen.”

Brendon shakes his head and takes another sip, “This is fine. Uh, yeah, everything’s fine. My friend, he- he doesn’t know what to do about... well, about what I’m doing.”

Ryan chews at his lip, making up his mind, “Look, I know I’m not supposed to ask, but seriously, what do you do for a living? What is it that makes _this_ so… complicated?”

Brendon sighs, “I’m sorry, I just… I’m scared of what you’ll say.”

“We’ve already covered that you’re not a drug dealer, right? What else could there be that’s that shitty?” Ryan takes another sip of his coffee as he thinks about how to go about this. “Are you a hooker?” he asks, with a smirk.

“No,” Brendon laughs, “Although I _could_ occasionally be described as a stripper by certain people.”

Ryan’s eyebrows shoot up for a second, before he bursts out laughing. “Alright, so the mystery thickens.”

There is no mystery, really, because Ryan _knows_. He leans in and gives Brendon a light kiss, “I have to go to work, stay as long as you want. You can come to the café if you want; I think my friends might want to meet you. If you have somewhere to be… just make sure you visit soon, yeah?”

Brendon blushes a little, “Yeah, I told Dallon I’d see him later, and in his terms that means in no less than five hours. I should get driving, really.” He blushes harder, “I may have ditched my friends without any warning to get here.”

Ryan’s a little impressed and thrilled by the thought, as he knows what that really means. Ryan kisses him again and hops off the bed. “See you around, Urie.”

He’s buzzing when he reaches the café, and it’s with a light heart that he flips the ‘Closed’ sign to ‘Open’.

The café hasn’t been open for half an hour when Brendon passes through on his way out and, because there’s no one in the café but them, Ryan takes great pleasure in kissing Brendon against the counter to say goodbye.

Jon, in a wonderful display of his new-found work ethic, actually shows up more or less on time, two hours after they opened instead of his usual four or five.  He immediately screeches, “Why isn’t your phone on, you selfish dick?”

Ryan shushes him, apologising to the customers that looked their way at Jon’s less-than-professional outburst. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I completely forgot. I mean, I did have _Brendon Urie_ in my bed.”

Jon opens his mouth to reply. Then stops. And thinks. Then, “IN YOUR BED?!” he exclaims.

Ryan laughs, loudly, “Yes! In my bed.”

Jon’s face splits into a wide grin, and he’s practically bopping with excitement, “Tell me everything.”

The café slowly gets busier throughout the day, and Ryan enjoys the distraction that the customers provide. Jon keeps shooting him looks as they work but thankfully the Saturday afternoon proves to be one that keeps them from talking too much. Ryan’s fully aware how much Jon wants to talk about it, however.

They’re never this busy, normally, and Ryan doubts that it’s the Winter Specials that are bringing in the crowds. Jon even mentions it, walking past him and saying, “This is totally lover boy’s fault.”

Ryan sticks his middle finger up at him and tells him to go fuck himself. Jon’s right, though. Brendon’s interview is the most likely cause of their increase in customers. Ryan’s not really complaining, more money for him, but it’s tiring and there are only two of them on days that Cassie doesn’t show up, and when she does she spends more time talking than helping.

~~Again, Ryan wonders why he bothers hiring them.~~

No customers have approached Ryan and mentioned Brendon, however, so there is a slight chance that they’re not here because of Brendon, but Ryan doubts it.

-

**9 days till Christmas**

Ryan’s phone chimes loudly in the quiet café.

 **Brendon** : _I MISS YOU._

-

**7 days till Christmas**

Ryan texts both Jon and Cassie first thing, letting them know he’s closing the café for the day so that he can get some Christmas shopping done. He’s left it a little late, a week till the big day, but that’s how Ryan operates.

He gets into the town centre at nine am. He manages to get some shopping done: a CD for Jon; a jumper for Cassie; a box of chocolates for his parents that he’ll probably forget to send and eat himself.

He also buys himself another Christmas jumper and a scarf to match, along with a DVD to watch tonight.

He wanders into a newsagent’s, just for some cheap chocolate, but the rack of magazines catches his eye. Specifically, the music section. He scans them and his eyes catch on _Alternative Press_ , and the name Brendon Urie blares out from the front page. The man’s smiling face grins out at Ryan, and Ryan can’t help but smile.

He buys the magazine.

He heads for the nearest coffee shop, which happens to be Starbucks, and normally Ryan wouldn’t, but he really needs a drink. He buys himself an Americano and settles down onto one of the seats, pulling the magazine from his bag.

Ryan flips through it, looking for Brendon, and takes in the brightly coloured articles, thinking idly that maybe he’ll read the whole magazine, since he paid for it and all.

The band name of _Panic! At The Disco_ is bright and bold, with the subheadline of _AP MAGAZINE INTERVIEWED BRENDON URIE OF PANIC!_

Brendon’s name is larger than the rest of the text and the interview is accompanied by a few shots from a photo-shoot. Ryan is struck by the surrealism of it all.

He reads through the magazine, and discovers that the band are about to release their third studio album, _Vices & Virtues_, following a split within the band. Their numbers dropped from four to three, having lost two members and gained one. Ryan grimaces a little at the uncomfortable questions about it, and wonders how Brendon’s doing in light of it all – they must have been friends.

The he gets to a part that really catches his eye.

 **Interviewer:** _Now, what everyone is talking about… The internet has been going insane since your online interview with_ Billboard _and we’d love to hear more, if that’s alright. Tell us about your coffee shop boy. Did he call?_

 **Urie:** _[laughs] Uh, wow, I’m not sure if… Shit, do you think he’ll mind? [Urie pauses for a moment] Fuck it, yes he did call. Well, he texted, but same difference._

 **Interviewer:** _Have you been back to Nevada?_

 **Urie:** _I was back there the other day, actually. And before you ask, yes I did see him. No, I’m not giving you details. I’ll just say... It was nice. Look, I don’t want to start anything, I barely know the guy, but he’s nice. And he bought me Chinese food so as far as I’m concerned, he’s a keeper._

Ryan stops reading there, his heart pounding and he shoves the magazine back into his bag. He all but runs home, leaving his coffee behind in his panic.

The ground is covered in snow, making him slow to a walk as he gets nearer to home where not as many people have worn away the snow. He glances out across the street before he goes inside, looking at the place where Brendon kissed him.

He locks the door behind him, double checking the ‘Closed’ sign. He settles down on one of the chairs and gets the magazine and his phone out. Placing them on the table he stares at them for a long moment. He flips back to the interview.

**Interviewer:** _I’m sure that’ll make the internet get even more curious. Are you sure there’s nothing else you could tell us?_

**Urie:** _I’m sure. He’s not… He’s not a musician; he’s not famous. He still has his privacy and his quiet life and his café and small flat, and I really don’t want people bothering him, just because I’ve talked about him twice now._

Ryan chews at his lip and glances at his phone. The temptation to call Brendon is absolute, but Ryan does his best to resist.

Brendon doesn’t know he knows, and Brendon doesn’t want Ryan to know. Ryan has to respect that. For the time being, at least.

-

**6 days till Christmas**

“¡Hola!” Brendon greets when he picks up the phone.

Ryan rolls his eyes and replies, quickly, “Hola, Brendon, ¿cómo estás?”

“Shit,” is Brendon’s reply to that, “Do you speak Spanish?”

Ryan laughs, “No, I just took it in high school, and if I couldn’t at least remember how to say ‘how are you’ then it _really_ would have been a waste of my time.”

Brendon’s laugh down the phone is a beautiful sound and Ryan’s face lights up. “Thank fuck, I would have felt incredibly uneducated if you had. Then again, I did drop out of high school.”

“You did?” Ryan asks, surprised.

Brendon laughs, awkwardly, “Yeah.”

Ryan’s sat on his sofa with his knees pulled up to his chest, the phone pressed to his ear. “Where are you, right now?”

“Uh, Ohio, right this moment.”

“Shit, that’s the other side of the country, Bren!” Ryan says in shock, “How did you get there?”

“I flew?” Brendon answers, as if he’s not actually sure himself.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it, but seriously, what is your job? How the fuck did you end up in Ohio?”

“You’re right; I don’t want to talk about it.” Brendon replies, snappily.

Ryan is silent for a moment, and Brendon sighs, “I’m sorry. I just-,” he breaks off and doesn’t offer anything else.

“Okay,” Ryan says quietly, “Okay.”

“I miss you,” Brendon says softly, “Is that completely ridiculous?”

Ryan smiles, despite himself and shakes his head, “No,” he answers, “It’s not. I miss you, too.”

When Brendon doesn’t say anything else, Ryan asks, “When can I see you again?”

“I don’t know,” Brendon admits, “Like we said, I’m on the other side of the country, right now, but I should be going home for Christmas, and home’s Nevada, so…”

“What do you mean ‘should’? How can you not know?” Ryan asks, confused.

Brendon sighs, “There are things that need to get done, but hopefully we’ll all be going home for a week or so.”

“Will you come see me?” Ryan asks, nervously.

“As if I could stay away,” Brendon laughs. He stops talking and Ryan can hear the sound of someone on his end talking to him. Brendon says distantly, “Come on, just give me ten more minutes, yeah?” The other person says something, sounding a little irritated, and Brendon snaps, “I know I saw him the other day, but I still want to talk to him now.”

Ryan feels, much like with the interviews, that these are things he shouldn’t be hearing. But then, they are about him.

Brendon sighs heavily, this time actually coming through the phone clearly, and he says in a tired voice, “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go. Like I said, things need to get done.”

Ryan’s heart sinks in disappointment, but he forces a cheery voice when he replies, “That’s alright. If you can’t get away from… work, happy holidays, Brendon.”

“You too, Ry,” Brendon says. “I’ll text you later, or something.”

“You better,” Ryan grins, and there’s the soft sound of Brendon’s laugh before he hangs up.

Ryan doesn’t stop smiling for a few hours after that, and it’s not helped by the fact that he keeps getting texts every now and then of Brendon complaining. It’s cute, really.

 **Brendon** : _dallon just threatened to take my phone off me if i dont stop checking it every 2 seconds_

 **Brendon** : _dallon’s my friend btw do you remember him he picked me up the night i met you_

 **Brendon** : _there has never been a duller moment in my life than this fucking meeting_

 **Brendon** : _i hope the life of a coffee shop owner is more interesting than what im going thru rn because this is hell_

There are more of the same, and Ryan thinks Brendon is adorable, even when he’s complaining. He sends a fast text in reply,

 **Ryan** : _Oh, stop moaning. Dying children in Africa, and all that._

 **Brendon** : _at least they dont have to sit and listen to pete – my boss sort of – say that they have to do all these awful things that are ‘part of the job description, brendon, you knew this when you signed up’ fml_

 **Ryan** : _Don’t get fired, Bren._

 **Brendon** : _pete wouldnt fire me_

 **Ryan** : _You say that now…_

Brendon doesn’t reply to that, and either he took heed of Ryan’s mocking warnings, or Dallon really did take his phone off him. Either way Ryan settles onto his sofa to watch TV with a smile on his face.

-

**5 days till Christmas**

**Brendon** : _roses are red…_

 **Brendon** : _violets are blue…_

 **Brendon** : _i rly want…_

 **Brendon** : _to spend christmas w you <3 _

**Ryan** : _And here I was thinking that that was going to be sexual._

 **Brendon** : _i can do that too if you like;)_

 **Ryan** : _I want to spend Christmas with you too, by the way._

 **Brendon** : _its not looking hopeful tho sorry:(_

Ryan then gets a text made up solely of crying faces, and that almost makes Ryan smile enough to cover up the bad news, but not quite.

-

**4 days till Christmas**

Jon and Cassie stare him down, stood behind the counter. Jon looks thoughtful, while Cassie looks a little concerned. “Why are you so down?” Cassie asks eventually.

“I’m not,” Ryan replies immediately, trying to get past them to make the coffee that just got ordered.

“Yes you are!” Cassie insists, and Jon hums his agreement. “Wait,” Cassie says, “When was the last time you heard from Brendon?”

Ryan doesn’t have to think about it, and he tells them casually as he starts making the mocha, “Yesterday, that’s got nothing to do with anything.”

“When was the last time you _saw_ Brendon?” Jon asks.

“Six days ago,” Ryan snaps, “Look, I said he’s got nothing to do with it, so shut up.”

Cassie laughs, and it’s a sound that Ryan usually finds sweet and contagious, but right now it’s just annoying. He glares at her. Jon hits him over the back of the head.

Ryan gives the coffee to the customer and says with a smile, “Will that be everything?” despite the fact that he _knows_ Jon and Cassie are stood there staring at him, waiting to talk to him about Brendon. The customer nods and says yes and then hands over the money as he tells Ryan to have a nice day. “Thanks,” Ryan replies, “You too.”

“Come on, RyRo, out with it,” Cassie demands, using that annoying nickname she came up with back when the three of them were in high school.

Ryan glares at her for a second, and then half-heartedly shrugs, “He still hasn’t told me about the band, and I’m worried I’m not going to see him between now and Christmas.”

Jon and Cassie exchange a long look, then Jon says, “One, he’ll tell you when he’s ready. You already told him that you don’t like music, don’t you think he might be a little nervous to tell you that that’s what he does and loves?”

“I don’t not like music,” Ryan interjects, and Jon waves a hand dismissively.

“Fine, ‘don’t have time for it’, whatever. Anyway, two, I’m sure you will. You know what he said in that interview with _AP_ , that boy is head over heels for you.” Jon informs him, matter-of-factly.

Ryan smiles a little, reluctantly.

“Cheer up,” Cassie says, “It’s _Christmas_.”

Ryan spends the rest of the day people watching as he serves the few people that come in. A few people add wishes to the Christmas Wish wall, and Ryan thinks that maybe he should add one too.

-

**3 days till Christmas**

Ryan turns his phone over and over in his hands a few times before finally pressing send:

 **Ryan** : _Do you know if you can get away for Christmas, yet?_

He doesn’t get a reply, and Ryan’s heart sinks.

With the café closed, he spends the day trying to distract himself but still somehow finds himself sat on the sofa with his laptop on his knee, watching interviews and performances of _Panic! At The Disco_.

They really are very good, and Brendon makes for a charismatic interviewee.

Ryan finds himself laughing aloud at a couple of them, and when he comes across a vine compilation of Brendon, it really is the end for him. Hours later, he’s still watching a mix of interviews and vines, and he still can’t stop grinning.

When he sees the comments on the videos and vines, he can’t help but feel a little boastful too. There are so many teenagers out there who would sell their arm and leg to kiss Brendon, and he has. Without even having to try. And, fuck, it was great.

Ryan puts a hand over his face as he grins into his palm and thinks about how it felt to have Brendon’s arms wrapped around him, their lips pressed together.

He manages to pull himself together and closes down the tabs on his laptop, knowing that if he doesn’t stop thinking about Brendon, he’ll end up calling him and telling him everything. Besides, Brendon’s probably busy. That’s why he didn’t reply to the text.

Instead, he logs onto Facebook. As soon as he gets on, Cassie’s name pops up in the corner with a message. Ryan clicks on it without thinking and as soon as it fills the screen he groans.

 **Cassie** : _brendon talked about u agaaaiinnn!!!_

Her words are followed by a link and Ryan hesitates.

 **Ryan** : _Do I really want to read this?_

He types the words and sends them with a growing sense of trepidation about whatever it is that Brendon’s said about him this time.

 **Cassie** : _dont bullshit me ross ur gonna read it anyway_

He doesn’t even bother replying; he won’t give her the satisfaction of admitting that she’s right.

He clicks on the link.

It’s a whole band interview this time, that’s new. From what Ryan could tell Spencer and Dallon weren’t all that vocal. Brendon was the frontman. The ringleader. The main attraction.

He skim reads the start of the article, trying to work out where they are – where Brendon is – and also reads a little into what they’re doing.

But he eventually gets to the part where his name is brought up. He bites his lip as he reads, curious and a little worried.

 **Interviewer** : _You know what I’m going to ask next…_

 **Urie** : _I have a feeling I do, yes._

 **Interviewer** : _Go on, then. How’s the mysterious Ryan doing?_

 **Urie** : _He’s, uh, good? I was texting him yesterday,_ (so, the interview is about three days old, Ryan figures, idly) _but-_

 **Smith** : _During a fucking meeting, Brendon._

 **Weekes** : _Brendon’s got this habit of calling and texting Ryan at times when he shouldn’t._

 **Urie** : _Okay, okay, calm down, you were bored too._

 **Interviewer** : _I’m sensing a bit of tension here, maybe we should steer clear of this topic?_

 **Weekes** : _No, it’s fine, really. It’s just that we don’t know a thing about this Ryan, except that he makes good coffee and makes Brendon run off to Nevada without letting us know that he’s going._

Ryan heaves out a heavy breath and taps his fingers against his laptop.

 **Urie** : _He doesn’t make me do anything. Maybe we should drop it._

 **Interviewer** : _No worries. Okay, I just have a few more questions…_

Ryan stays staring at the screen for a long moment, feeling unbelievably guilty at the argument that he caused. Chewing at his fingernail he stares at his phone next to him and considers calling Brendon. Maybe he should, and maybe he shouldn’t.

He calls.

The phone rings for a long time, and Ryan’s half convinced that Brendon isn’t going to pick up. Blessedly, he does, and he sounds so exhausted when he speaks, “Ry? We’ve got to make this quick, sorry.”

Ryan blinks, “No, I’m sorry, if you’re busy we can talk later.”

“No, please, no. Let’s talk now. I haven’t talked to you in a few days,” he sighs, “I miss you.”

Ryan almost smiles. Almost. “I miss you, too.”

“What are you doing?” Brendon asks, and Ryan feels a little guilty again when he lies.

“Nothing much, just lying around on the sofa. You?”

“Work stuff. God, I want to get away so bad. I fucking love my job, and I love my friends so, so much, but it’s nearly Christmas, Ry, and I…” Brendon sounds so tired, and Ryan wants to hug him, to curl up with him, to make him hot drinks and make him relax. “I want to be with you, Ry.”

“Me too,” Ryan says, softly, “It’s going to be alright, Bren, get some rest, you sound exhausted.”

“I will, I’ve just got one more interview today, I hate press conferences sometimes.”

“Press?” Ryan asks, making himself sound confused.

“Shit, yeah, for my job. Uh, listen, next time I’m down, I swear, I’ll tell you everything.” Brendon promises.

“Really?” Ryan asks.

“Promise,” Brendon replies. “I’d tell you now, but I think it’s a conversation best kept for when I can actually see you.”

“Okay.”

There’s a pause, and then the sound of Brendon talking to someone on the other end, “Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“You gotta go?” Ryan asks, disappointed, even though he knew it was going to be a short conversation.

“Yeah, sorry, I’ll text you.”

“See you around, Brendon,” Ryan says with a small smile, and when Brendon hangs up, Ryan sits there for a long time.

Eventually, he makes his way to bed, curling up in the sheets and wishing that he wasn’t alone that night.

He gets a text close to midnight that simply reads _goodnight, ry_ and he doesn’t reply.

-

**2 days until Christmas**

TheCoffeeShop is full, filled to the brim with people taking a break from their last minute Christmas shopping, and Ryan is struggling. He’s sent a backup call to both Jon and Cassie, pleading their assistance, but they’re yet to turn up.

“God damn them both,” Ryan curses under his breath as he sticks a mug underneath the coffee machine, pressing buttons rapidly, before turning back to the next customer.

He smiles brightly, falsely, and manages to get about halfway through the sentence, “And what can I get for you?” when the teenager squeals. Ryan freezes, and panics, “What? What?” he exclaims.

“You’re Ryan!” she grins.

Ryan’s face falls, “Shit.”

“No, no, wait, I’m not some kind of stalker, can I get a medium mocha?” she hastily orders.

Ryan nods slowly, “Yes. On the condition that you don’t ask me anything about Brendon.”

She pouts, “Oh, come on, that’s unfair.”

“Is it?” he asks, “Is it really?”

She sighs and agrees ruefully. After she’s paid and has received her coffee, she pauses, “One question, come on.”

He sighs and glances at the queue behind her, “Make it quick.”

Her face lights up, “Yes! Does he know you know who he is?”

Ryan’s eyes widen and his stomach goes into free fall, “No,” he says, quickly, “No, he doesn’t.”

She smirks, “I knew it. Are you going to tell him?”

“I said one question,” Ryan growls.

She leaves then, but can’t seem to resist saying, “You should tell him,” as though that hasn’t occurred to Ryan.

He can’t focus after that, and the phone in his pocket is a dead weight. People are constantly wishing him happy holidays and he can barely bring himself to smile back at them, heavy with the thought that he might not see Brendon for Christmas.

Jon and Cassie finally show up and order that he takes a break, so he moves to sit in the back room and pulls his phone out of his pocket.

 **Ryan** : _I know what my Christmas Wish is._

He doesn’t even have to wait for five minutes before Brendon replies.

 **Brendon** : _care to share with the class??_

 **Ryan** : _Maybe when I see you._

 **Brendon** : _is that ur way of asking when ur gonna see me?_

Ryan stifles a laugh as Brendon sees right through him.

 **Ryan** : _Maybe…_

He doesn’t get a reply for a long time, and Ryan sighs wearily, shoving his phone back into his pocket and making his way out onto the shop floor. Jon gives him a half-smile at Ryan’s tired manner and Cassie gives him a kiss on the cheek as she passes him.

Ryan smiles back at them both, in a way that he hopes is convincing – but knows isn’t.

Later that night when he’s sitting in his apartment his phone chimes, and he lights up the screen cautiously.

 **Brendon** : _i dont know_

Ryan can’t think of a single thing to reply with.

-

**1 day until Christmas**

With the café closed for the next few days, Ryan has time to relax and enjoy Christmas. It’s Christmas Eve, and he, Cassie, and Jon are keeping up their tradition of having a party at Ryan’s. It’s the best place for it, and Cassie and Jon arrive around lunch with big smiles and presents galore.

Cassie is wrapped up in a big coat and a scarf, her face glowing from the cold and looking beautiful in her happiness. She wraps her arms around Ryan and gives him a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek, singing her “Happy Christmas Eve!”

Jon is close on her heels, grinning, and he pulls Ryan in for a hug too, saying, “Happy Christmas, Ry,” his voice warm and joyful.

They settle themselves into the front room, unloading their gifts and putting them under the tree, ready for the following morning.

Jon and Cassie will stay the night, the three of them watching Christmas movies and talking, staying up late until they fall asleep on the sofa. They’ll wake up tomorrow morning, one of them usually on the floor having fallen off the sofa during the night, and they’ll put on Christmas music and dance around, singing loudly as they make some sort of breakfast and start drinking even though it’s way too early. They’ve always celebrated Christmas this way, for as long as they’ve known each other. As children, they’d always spend the two days at the Ross household, making way too much noise in their excitement. Then, when they grew up and all moved away to the same city, they continued the tradition.

His friends fill up his apartment, making it colourful and loud, and he leans against the doorpost to the front room and smiles as Cassie screams delightedly as Jon  wraps some tinsel around her and pulls her in for a kiss. She grins against his lips and giggles.

Jon pulls back and takes the tinsel from around her and adds it to the tree, declaring that, “Your Christmas decorations are lacking, Ryan Ross.”

Ryan rolls his eyes and moves into the living room. Cassie is busy putting on some Christmas music and very soon the dulcet tones of Michael Bublé fills the room. She turns to face Ryan and starts to sing along to ‘ _It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas’,_ waltzing around the room, her bare feet dancing across the carpet.

They dine on chips and dip as they watch _The Grinch_ and feel very grown up. Cassie and Jon have claimed the sofa, leaving Ryan sitting on the floor at their feet, and he doesn’t mind. His friends are here, and it’s Christmas tomorrow, and he’s so very happy.

The day passes quickly as they work their way through various films of debateable quality and snack on everything in Ryan’s kitchen.

Jon’s the first to fall asleep, as per usual, and Cassie and Ryan make a three am snack in the kitchen.

She’s sitting on the kitchen counter, feet hanging down and kicking back and forth a little, and he’s rooting through the cupboards in search of anything to eat, when she says quietly, “Ry?”

He doesn’t bother looking up, just says, “Yeah?” as he shoves aside a few tins of soup.

“I’m pregnant.”

Ryan’s head shoots up, colliding with the top of the cupboard, “Ow, shit fuck motherfucking bastard, that’s brilliant, fuck shit,” he manages to get out, and Cassie bursts out laughing, her voice ringing out, clear and bright.

Ryan’s clutches at his head but somehow manages to make it over to Cassie, pulling her into a hug and grinning, “That’s fantastic, Cass, that’s-.”

“I know!” she laughs, hugging him tightly, and then, “Sorry about your head.”

He waves it off, unable to keep the wide grin off his face. “Have you told Jon?”

“Yes, I told him last night, he said I could tell you whenever, so you don’t need to feel guilty about anything,” she giggles.

“I’m so happy for you, Cassie,” he says, beaming at her.

It’s three am and they’re stood in a kitchen that’s starting to feel a little cold, and neither of them can stop smiling.

When they get back into the living room, they fit themselves onto the sofa. Cassie gets about halfway through _Crazy Stupid Love_ before she falls asleep, her head on Jon’s stomach, and Ryan smiles fondly at his two best friends. Their lives are falling into place, and everything is good.

He falls asleep happy and comfortable.

-

**Christmas day**

Ryan wakes to find Cassie sat next to him on the floor, cross-legged and grinning widely. She’s gotten dressed, now wearing a pretty floral dress that is most certainly not suitable for the cold winter weather, but he’s used to that from her. He can hear Jon in the kitchen and wonders idly how long they left him sleeping on the floor.

“Mornin’,” he groans, rubbing at his face.

“Good morning, Ryan!” she sings and gets to her feet, “Get up, it’s Christmas!”

He pulls himself to his feet with a restrained glare at his friend and stretches, his back aching from a night on the floor.

She leaves him in favour of going to check up on Jon, so Ryan flops onto the sofa and plucks his phone from the floor, checking for new messages.

There’s nothing there, and he feels a twinge of disappointment. Frowning down at his phone, he wonders if he should text Brendon, and he’s still sat that way when Cassie comes back into the room, “No!” she exclaims. “I will _not_ have you sulking about Brendon Urie on Christmas day.”

He throws her a look, “I was just going to wish him a Happy Christmas.”

She _tssk_ s, and watches as he types out the message.

 **Ryan** : _Happy Christmas!!!! Have a great day x_

He almost deletes the kiss at the end, but in a rush of Christmas spirits he leaves it in.

Jon comes in, carrying three champagne glasses in his hands, passing them out to Cassie and Ryan. Ryan gives Cassie an odd look as she accepts it and she laughs, admitting, “It’s just lemonade.”

Jon looks between the two of them, startled, then, “You told him?” His face is lit up with happiness when Cassie nods and he pulls her in for a kiss. “Isn’t it incredible?” he asks Ryan with a grin.

Ryan raises his glass in a toast, “It really is.”

Jon lifts his glass too, and the three of them clink their glasses together before gulping down the drinks.

The alcohol in Ryan’s drink leaves him feeling pleasantly dizzy and they put on loud Christmas music as they finish making what is technically lunch, given the time, but was supposed to be breakfast.

When they finally flop onto the floor by the tree, they’ve eaten far too much but all three are ecstatic. They take turns opening presents; Cassie laughs at the jumper that Ryan bought her, saying that she’ll have to wear it every day she can before she gets too big.

Ryan can’t help but check his phone, and his stomach sinks as he finds that he doesn’t have any messages from Brendon. Jon pats him on the shoulder and Cassie offers him a sympathetic smile, “I’m sure he has a reason, Ry.”

Ryan forces a bright smile, “It’s fine, it’s nothing.”

His friends look at him sceptically, but don’t say another word.

He leaves his phone upstairs when they move the party down to the café, turning on all the Christmas lights and playing music over the sound system. Ryan makes them all their favourite Winter Specials. Cassie licks the foam moustache off Jon’s upper lip and Ryan protests loudly at their gross behaviour. In return, Cassie simply sticks her middle finger up at him, making him laugh loudly.

Settling back into his chair, warm and happy, he watches Cassie dance around the room, and he laughs when Jon says that Cassie was less frivolous in the previous years when she was actually drunk.

Jon is on his way to drunk, but both Cassie and Ryan are perfectly sober, Cassie out of necessity and Ryan out of want. Ryan drags the two of them over to the Christmas Wishes wall and they spend time reading through them, pointing out favourites.

_I wish that it would stop fucking snowing._

_I wish for a nice butt._

_I wish that my mom can be happy._ (Cassie sighs softly at that.)

_I wish that I could stop thinking about her._

_I wish that this is the happiest Christmas yet._

_I wish all the best to this little café._ (Ryan blushes a little at that one.)

_I wish that my mom gets me that PS4 that I asked for._

_I wish that-_

“Are you closed?” A voice behind them asks, and the three of them whirl around.

At the same time as Cassie yells, “Yes we are,” Jon drops his mug onto the floor, where it shatters, its contents spilling everywhere, and Ryan meets Brendon’s eyes for the first time in ten days.

Ryan can hardly speak, but then he manages to get out the words, “No. Not for you. Never for you,” and Brendon throws himself into Ryan’s arms.

Ryan pulls him in and kisses him with everything he has and when he pulls away he half-heartedly punches Brendon in the chest, “Where the Hell have you been; I am so mad at you!”

Brendon smiles sheepishly and nervously, “We have a lot to talk about,” he admits.

“That’s an understatement,” Ryan says weakly.

Brendon pulls him in for a hug, holding him tightly, and whispers, “I’m sorry I’ve been so distant, I swear that I wanted to be here every single moment.”

Ryan pulls away and kisses Brendon on the cheek, but then his eyes glance towards Cassie and Jon, who are standing, watching, with the widest grins on their faces. Brendon blushes, “Hi,” he mumbles.

“He’s so pretty,” Cassie breathes, making Brendon blush harder, and Jon and Ryan roll their eyes. (Although, secretly, Ryan agrees, of course.)

“This is Jon and Cassie,” Ryan introduces them, “Guys, this is Brendon, in case you didn’t… get that. Or something.”

The two of them giggle childishly.

“Can we sit down?” Brendon asks, taking Ryan’s hand, and the two of them sit down at a table, facing each other, keeping hold of their hands across the table.

Cassie and Jon join them at the table, without invitation, but neither Brendon nor Ryan protest, and Brendon says, “They might as well, this is… Well.” He trails off lamely.

“Go on,” Ryan prompts, aiming for encouraging.

Brendon seems to hesitate, seeming nervous, and then he blurts out, “I’m a singer.” He takes a deep breath to steady himself, and then, “I’m in a band. Uh, we’re called _Panic! At The Disco,_ my friends, y’know Dallon, and the others, they’re… they’re in it too.”

Ryan just stares at him, finding himself in disbelief that Brendon actually told him, he actually admitted to it.

Brendon takes his silence in the completely wrong way, and he hasn’t even looked at Cassie and Jon since he started to speak, unfortunately, because they look like they’re about to burst. “Please say something,” Brendon all but pleads, “I know- I know you’re not really into music, or whatever, but it’s basically my life, and well, I’m kind of famous.”

Ryan squeezes his hand and tilts his head on its side, saying with a challenging note in his voice, “Prove it.”

Jon shoots him a sharp look, and Ryan knows he’s thinking that it’s completely unnecessary. Ryan shrugs slightly.

Brendon frowns a little, and then pulls out his phone. He opens up google and types in his name, muttering, “I hate doing this,” and then he slides he phone across the table.

Ryan doesn’t even look down at it, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on Brendon when he says, “If you don’t want someone to find out what you do for a living, don’t talk about them in interviews, sweetie.”

Brendon blinks. Then he blinks again. “ _What_?”

Ryan can feel a grin spreading across his face at Brendon’s startled expression, and Cassie sniggers slightly.

“You _knew?_ ” Brendon asks, leaning forwards.

“I’ve known for ages,” Ryan admits.

“You bastard,” Brendon says, but he’s laughing, and all the insult is gone from the statement, “Oh, my God.”

Now, Ryan really can’t stop grinning, and his expression is mirrored on Brendon’s face. “Just because I don’t have time for music, doesn’t mean my friends don’t,” Ryan explains. “Jon came to me days after I met you with that first interview.”

Brendon lets go of Ryan’s hand to bury his face in his hands, and Ryan’s heart flutters at how _adorable_ it is. Brendon looks up at him, between fingers, and says, “Can I kiss you right now?”

Ryan laughs and gets up from the table, walking slowly and deliberately over to Brendon. Brendon doesn’t even manage to get to his feet, and Ryan leans down, taking Brendon’s face between his hands, and kisses him slowly.

Brendon eventually manages to get up, still kissing Ryan, and his arms wrap around Ryan’s waist, pulling him as close as he can.

Cassie’s voice breaks through to them as she says, “Might I suggest you take this _upstairs_?”

Brendon looks at Ryan earnestly, “Are you okay with this?”

Ryan nods, eagerly, “You have no idea how okay I am with all of this.”

He kisses Brendon again, but Brendon hesitates, “I mean, you’re okay with me being… me?”

“You’re an idiot,” Ryan giggles and kisses Brendon again. This time Brendon doesn’t break away and he follows Ryan as Ryan pulls them in the direction of the staircase.

They stumble up the stairs to Ryan’s place, and Ryan is pretty sure that Brendon isn't even slightly looking where he's going. They kiss on the stairwell, and Ryan’s bound to have a pretty awesome bruise from the doorknob, from where it digs into his back when they kiss against the door, Brendon’s knee between his legs, and Ryan’s hand in Brendon's back pocket.

They shed clothes on their way in and Ryan pretty much hyperventilates when he pushes Brendon's shirt off his shoulders, but he can’t freak out now, not when there’s Brendon's collarbone he can kiss, not when he can run his hands all over that chest. Brendon retaliates by sticking his hand down Ryan’s pants, palming his dick, and holy fuck.

“Ry,” Brendon starts, pulling away, and no, this is the opposite of what Ryan wants. “Wait, just...”

“If you’re going to ask if this is alright again, then I’m going to kick you out and go straight for the liquor cabinet,” Ryan threatens and punctuates it with a bite to Brendon’s shoulder. Brendon tries to laugh and groan and glare at the same time.

It shouldn’t be attractive, and yet.

“I was going to suggest moving this to the bedroom.”

“You sound way too coherent, how can I make sure that doesn’t happen again?” he asks, already pulling at the zipper of Brendon's pants. Brendon groans and stumbles when the back of his legs hit the bed, and he pulls at Ryan’s hand again, and they fall onto the bed together, kissing again.

“More of this,” Brendon says helpfully, kicking off his shoes. It’s uncoordinated and clumsy and he knocks something over and Ryan has never loved him more than now, when he grins sheepishly and breathes harshly and reaches out to touch Ryan, to get him ever so closer. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this.”

Ryan laughs into his mouth, because he has trouble believing this. It’s pretty clear that Brendon wants him, sure, but there’s no words for how he wants Brendon, no language that could encompass all of the deep-seated need for Brendon that’s etched into his bones and drowned in his blood. But Brendon wants him, and that’s amazing all in itself.

“Fuck, I love you,” he mutters against Brendon's lips, completely unprepared for the way it prompts Brendon to kiss him back, eager and desperate, like he’s trying to devour Ryan. He moans, licking into Ryan’s mouth, and moving his hips, rubbing himself off against Ryan.

Ryan whimpers Brendon’s name against his mouth, and Brendon curses, “Fuck, that sounds-.” He breaks off, unable to finish the sentence as Ryan grinds against him, creating friction between them.

There’s a whole number of things Ryan would like to do (he has a list), but most of them would mean having to stop kissing Brendon, and that simply isn’t an option, so he just fumbles to finish undoing Brendon’s pants. Brendon groans and attempts to help, his hand closing around Ryan’s dick, and Ryan shivers and bites his lip, draws it between his teeth.

They find a rhythm rather quickly, breathing harshly between kisses, and Brendon places his left hand on the back of Ryan’s neck and right before he’s coming, he brings their foreheads together.

They kiss lazily afterwards, Ryan falling forward, probably too heavy for Brendon, but it doesn’t seem like he minds, keeping him in place, hand carding through Ryan’s hair with amazing tenderness.

“I wish I’d met you a long time ago,” he mutters against Ryan’s skin, but there’s no regret in his voice, only a soft promise that there will be more. Ryan hides his face in Brendon’s neck and smiles.

-

**1 day after Christmas**

When Ryan wakes up, Brendon is curled up against him, using his chest as a pillow, and everything is perfect.

It’s barely morning, and the light is just starting to creep in past the curtains.

“You awake?” Brendon mumbles.

“Yeah,” Ryan whispers. Then, after a moment of silence has passed, “You were my Christmas Wish.”

Brendon doesn’t exactly tell Ryan how much his words mean, but he puts a good deal of effort into _showing_ him.

After, Ryan tells Brendon that he has to stay in bed with him, and Brendon replies that he had no intention of doing anything else. Brendon is warm against his bare skin, and the kisses that the man is slowly planting along Ryan’s collar bone are welcome and comforting.

They don’t talk about Brendon’s job; they don’t talk about how complicated things are going to be; they don’t talk about how on Earth they’re going to survive. They just know that they will. That they will manage.

It’s not even a question really, because Ryan knows that Brendon’s touch feels like home, and Brendon knows that he would go to the ends of the Earth for Ryan (he’d even fly all the way from Ohio to Nevada).

“I love you,” Brendon whispers into the quiet of the room, and Ryan lets his eyes slide shut, a small smile on his face, feeling happier than ever before.

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you very much for reading  
> this is a present for a good friend of mine but the thing is no one on tumblr is willing to be my beta so i guess y'all are my betas  
> this means that feedback is crucial!! please!! my friend wont see this she doesnt use ao3 i'm sending her the fic on christmas morning so i've got a few days to edit left  
> if you see any errors or flaws that you think need changed please speak up  
> otherwise just general feedback is grand  
> thank you!  
> and, if you enjoyed this: [buy me a coffee?](http://ko-fi.com/A831F9U)


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